


Speechless

by mistresscurvy



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Comeplay, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistresscurvy/pseuds/mistresscurvy
Summary: When Zhenya first came to Pittsburgh, he thought Sidney Crosby never stopped talking.





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eledhwenlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/gifts).



> Eledhwenlin, I really enjoyed writing this for you, and I hope you like it! Thank you to the mods for running a wonderful exchange, and to my fabulous betas H and O. <3

When Zhenya first came to Pittsburgh, he thought Sidney Crosby never stopped talking. 

Or at least, Sid always had a thing to say. Even when Zhenya couldn't understand a quarter of what Sid was saying, he would watch his interviews out of the corner of his eye, and envy the way he could just speak. Everything Zhenya did was through a filter, interpreted through the dance he did with Seryozha. Everything except play hockey, of course. 

It took him longer than it should have to realize that most of the time Sid could talk so well into a microphone because he was so committed to saying nothing. Sid, it turned out, was far more bilingual than anyone gave him credit for. But his two fluencies were in media and the dressing room, not English and French. It didn't matter who he was trying to make a point to in the dressing room; he was going to get his thoughts across, in whatever language necessary. And he was equally committed to sharing only what he wanted to and nothing more with any of the beat reporters or national writers. 

If anything, watching Sid's mastery of both modes of communication only made Zhenya more frustrated. His own ability to make himself understood in the dressing room had developed over time, first through Seryozha and then on his own after he cobbled together the necessary vocabulary. His fluency grew in fits and starts, and sometimes it felt like Sid’s desire to understand him managed to pull the words out of Zhenya. He always looked so pleased when he got what Zhenya was saying, without a hint of the condescension that he saw on the faces of national media during the playoffs, that it made Zhenya want to work even harder. 

It wasn’t enough to impress Sid on the ice, apparently. He wanted that approval anywhere he could get it. So he used his limited vocabulary to triangulate his meaning, talking around a concept until he managed to circle its approximation, all while steadfastly ignoring Seryozha's muttered commentary. His second season started a step behind at the end of that summer when he first returned from Russia, but by the time they lost to Detroit he felt like he could say everything he wanted to in the dressing room to the guys, and there was no language in which he was willing to express himself to the public.

And after they won in Detroit the following season, his emotions surpassed any words he could imagine. 

He tried, he really did, but the best he could manage on the ice was a string of sounds he hoped meant something in some language. And then the celebration really started, and champagne and beer and hugs and perhaps a few tears did all his necessary communicating.

Sid was somehow still talking, in the dressing room after and on the flight home and at the party at Mario’s even, reliving each moment teammate by teammate, his clean-shaven face still betraying the long slog of the playoffs and how completely worth the effort it had all been in the end, because they had won. His voice was still playing through Zhenya’s head when he stole off to a bathroom on the second floor of the house. When he opened the door and found Sid actually there, he had a moment of confusion, of wondering whether he had just followed Zhenya to continue his commentary. But Sid’s face lit up with surprise and excitement at seeing him there, even if he just picked up where he had last left off without losing a beat.

“Geno! I didn’t know you were up here, but I’ve been meaning to tell you how amazing you were out there. I mean, you won the Conn Smythe, you don’t need me to tell you, but—“

Zhenya responded the only way he could, which was to crowd Sid up against the wall and kiss him. He hadn’t thought much past the desire to get Sid to stop talking and maybe just have another beer or twelve, but when Sid immediately opened up for his kiss, his next move seemed obvious. He kissed and nudged and maneuvered Sid down the hall until they got to an open door, and he pushed him into the immaculately kept guest room and shut the door behind them. 

For a few minutes he thought his plan had been a complete success, Sid's entire focus on kissing the breath out of Zhenya's lungs. But when Zhenya pulled back just far enough to start kissing down the side of Sid's jaw and neck, his hands never losing their grip on Sid's hips as they ground against each other, Sid opened his mouth and started talking again. 

"It was you, all of that was you," Sid said, pausing to gasp between words but still talking even when Zhenya squeezed him hard, and Zhenya liked being told how good he was in bed but usually he preferred to get compliments on the actual sex and not his hockey skill. 

"Not only me, you too," he said, a bit crossly, not exactly enjoying arguing with Sid on this topic but unwilling to let this keep going. 

"No, but," Sid started to continue, and at that Zhenya had had enough. He pushed Sid hard onto the bed, watching as he bounced and then sprawled out over the mattress, his dick hard and obvious in his shorts. Zhenya knelt up on the bed between Sid's legs and kissed him again, this time with a bit of a bite behind it.

"Need you just as much," Zhenya said against Sid's lips, punctuating it with a kiss using lots of tongue, as clear a message as he could give that this was not up for debate. He felt Sid's hips thrust up and the brush of his hard-on against Zhenya's thigh. That's what he’d thought. "No one could keep up with you." 

"Geno," Sid gasped, and Zhenya pulled back a bit at the sound of Sid's voice. His face was flushed, lips red and parted, and he was staring at Zhenya like he'd said something unexpected instead of the obvious truth. 

This required further experimentation. "Best captain," Zhenya said simply. He watched as Sid closed his eyes like he couldn't bear to see Zhenya's face, his hands tightening their grip on Zhenya's shoulders. He nuzzled in close to Sid's neck and repeated, "Best." 

He barely had time to react when Sid flipped the two of them over, kissing Zhenya intensely while he all but humped Zhenya's thigh. "Oh god," Sid moaned incoherently, the words drawn out as he thrust against Zhenya's body. 

Zhenya let him drive while he got his bearings again and then flipped them back over, kneeling up so that he could get his hands on Sid's zipper. "Want to see, to touch," he said. He grinned at Sid as he tugged down his shorts and briefs, Sid's dick bouncing back against his stomach once it was free. "Even this best." 

"Geno," Sid all but whined, and Zhenya pushed Sid's t-shirt up until it was up under his armpits, lingering long enough to pinch his right nipple hard. Sid bucked up in response, his lower lip caught in his teeth. It felt like winning another trophy, getting to see Sid spread out for him like this. 

"Best," Zhenya repeated softly, not teasing at all any longer. Or at least not with his words; from the look Sid was giving him, any further delay would be close to torture. Luckily for him, Zhenya wanted to see just how red he could get. He licked his hand and started to jerk Sid off, hand moving smoothly over the head of Sid's dick. 

"Oh fuck," Sid moaned, his hips snapping up in time with Zhenya's strokes. His hands were clutching and releasing the duvet, the muscles in his thighs tense against Zhenya. Zhenya couldn't stop looking between Sid's face and his hand on Sid's dick, Sid's head thrown back against the pillows. Zhenya leaned closer and licked up the long line of his throat, Sid twisting to meet him for a kiss. 

Sid's hands held Zhenya's face as Zhenya got him off, his dick sliding through the circle of Zhenya's fingers like it fit there. The rush of the Cup and the party faded into the background as he focused on only this right here, making Sid feel good. Finally Sid broke away from his mouth with a gasp, and Zhenya braced himself up so that he could watch as Sid came all over himself, come shooting up over his heaving abs and chest.

"Fuck," Zhenya muttered, barely able to breathe himself, and he knelt up far enough so that he could get his own dick out, swiping his hand through the mess on Sid's belly before getting his hand on himself. He didn't need to do anything fancy, just focused on the head with one hand while he tugged on his balls with the other. "Fuck, I'm so glad I came to Pittsburgh and get to play here with you," he said in Russian, well beyond doing the mental arithmetic to say that in English. 

"What?" Sid's eyes were heavy and a bit dazed still, and Zhenya wanted to reach out and touch his mouth with his fingers but he was already too close. 

"All you, Sid," Zhenya said instead, and started to come on Sid's dick and belly. He heard Sid gasp but he could only watch as he covered him with his come, leaning over to wipe the last drops against Sid's dick at the end. Sid's entire body twitched at that, and Zhenya finally looked up to see whether that had been too far. 

From the look Sid gave him he didn't think so, or from the way Sid melted back into the bed, still breathing hard. Zhenya tucked himself back into his shorts and then twisted over onto his back on one side of Sid. He leaned over to kiss Sid's cheek. 

"Careful with sheets," he said.

Sid blinked back at him for a moment before looking grumpy. "If you hadn't come all over me I wouldn't need to be!" 

Zhenya didn't bother to say that Sid was already a mess even before Zhenya got involved. "You like," Zhenya said instead, watching the flush spread over Sid's cheeks again. But Sid didn't argue the point. "Nap, then jump in pool, clean off." 

"Geno," he heard Sid say, but he was already drifting off.

*

The rest of June felt like he was half-awake, living through a fantasy that played out like every ridiculous daydream he'd allowed himself when he first came to Pittsburgh. Compared with the wonder of having beaten Detroit and won the Cup, a few drunken handjobs with Sid barely scratched the surface of unbelievability. And while their brief mutual hallucination in a guestroom wasn't one of the topics Sid was interested in discussing with him, never mentioning it at all, he still sought out Zhenya with his eyes and his words on every other subject. The heat of the rest of the summer baked any possible worry out of him, and the grind of the following season made even the memory of Sid's lips under his feel like a fever dream. 

Vancouver broke right into the middle of that grind, the novelty and honor of it a deep relief before it all came crashing down on him. He spent too much time alone after Russia was eliminated, sulking and licking his wounds and stubbornly refusing any attempts by his teammates to draw him out. He was determined to be happy for Sid by the time they all returned to Pittsburgh—it wasn't his fault Zhenya had failed, and there was something a bit comforting about the idea of Canada being fated to win at home, if he could only look forward four years. 

Focusing on Sid's happiness began as a way for Zhenya to get out of his head, but the more he watched Sid blush and shake his head at the good-natured chirping from the team, the more Zhenya managed to convince himself. Zhenya never wanted to lose, but if he had to (and it seemed that Russia had been determined to do so), he could be happy for Sid. 

That became even more true when he noticed how Sid looked when Zhenya decided to join in. At a bar after one of their first games back post-Vancouver, he clucked his tongue after Kuni teased Sid about scoring the gold medal winning goal. "How good can Sid be, not even Canada captain." 

"Geno," Sid protested, laughing. 

"Only captain for best team. Only Penguins deserve," Zhenya continued, winking at Sid before taking another drink of his beer.

Sid stared back at him, eyes wide and mouth open, probably in outrage. But his lips were pink and slick with beer, and suddenly all Zhenya could think about was how they’d felt when he’d kissed them all those months ago. Every additional comment Zhenya made about the golden goal, teasing him that he needed to start pulling his weight for the Penguins now, seemed to make Sid's eyes brighten more, the flush on his cheeks visible to Zhenya even in the dim light of the bar. 

He stayed close to Sid when they finally left the bar, shuffling closer to him in the elevator to their rooms. The last beer he'd gotten had lasted him a long time, his attention drawn to Sid more than to alcohol, and he felt a different sort of buzz in his body now. Zhenya wasn't surprised when Sid asked him, "Want to watch a movie or something?" just as the elevator arrived at their floor. 

"Sure," he said easily, following Sid down the hallway and waiting until the door was closed and latched behind him before he crowded Sid up against the wall. He kissed Sid once, his hands tight on his hips, tongue sweeping into Sid's mouth when he opened to him. Before he wanted to, he made himself pull away, smirking at the look of outrage on Sid's face. 

"No movie?" he asked, pretending to pout. 

"Oh my god," Sid said, and kissed Zhenya again while pushing him further into the hotel room and onto the bed. Zhenya landed on his back, the impact of Sid's weight on top of him forcing all the air out of his lungs. Sid pulled back for a moment to lose his jacket and take off his shoes, flinging them across the room in the direction of the closet. But Zhenya barely had time to catch his breath before Sid had crawled back on top of him and was demanding more from him already, his hips twitching against Zhenya and mouth intent on his.

Eventually he really couldn't breathe with Sid pressing down right on his diaphragm, so he flipped them over until he was braced up on his hands over Sid, one knee planted firmly between his legs. Sid's t-shirt was rucked up so that his stomach was showing, and it suddenly seemed ridiculous that Zhenya had never seen Sid completely naked outside of a dressing room before. So he tugged on the t-shirt until Sid sat up enough to lift it over his head, hair mussed and sticking up like a hedgehog. And then he got to work on Sid's jeans. 

"Geno," Sid started, only breaking off when Zhenya got his hand on his dick. 

"Talk, talk, talk," he said in a sing-song voice. He got his fingers hooked through the waistband of Sid's briefs and jeans and pulled hard, stumbling off the bed as they turned inside-out and finally left Sid naked aside from his socks. Zhenya decided he had already taken long enough and stepped in close between the V of Sid's legs before dropping to his knees. 

He could hear Sid whisper, "Jesus Christ," above him, but all of Zhenya's focus was on Sid's dick in front of him, on the smooth solidity of his thighs. He pushed Sid's legs open further, wanting to take advantage of Sid's flexibility and see more. Once he was splayed open for him, Zhenya leaned forward and got a firm grip on Sid's dick before taking the soft head into his mouth. 

Zhenya didn't know what he was doing, but he had always been good at learning on the fly, making adjustments and taking risks. Plus Sid was nothing if not expressive even here, his belly tightening up under Zhenya’s left hand and his thighs squeezing together when Zhenya began to suck carefully. He pressed back against Sid's thighs—he needed the room to work—and figured out a rhythm between his mouth and his hand. 

From the sounds Sid was making and the tiny hitch in his hips every time Zhenya managed to go a little deeper, he was a natural. He started to speed up, reaching down to cup and then gently tug on Sid's balls, pulling off only when Sid's thighs squeezed together again. 

"Sid," he said reproachfully, hiding his smile when Sid sat up enough to look down at him. 

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I," Sid cut himself off. He curled one hand through Zhenya's hair and then pressed his palm against Zhenya's cheek before spreading his legs even wider, which was apology enough. Zhenya reapplied himself to the task at hand, bobbing up and down on Sid's dick, pulling against the hand that had found its way back into his hair. 

He could hear Sid chanting his name over and over again, his hips thrusting up in time with Zhenya. It was almost hypnotic, which is what he blamed for his late reaction to Sid's increasingly sharp tugs on his hair. 

"What?" he asked as he finally pulled off, just in time to be hit in the mouth with the first pulse of come. He jerked back a bit but that only meant he got the rest of Sid's load on his neck and t-shirt, all to the soundtrack of Sid whimpering, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ " from above him. 

Before he could decide just how offended he wanted to be about that, Sid was moving, pulling himself up until he was sitting on the very edge of the bed with a leg on either side of Zhenya. He tilted Zhenya's face up and kissed him frantically, sucking and biting at his lips before leaning down to lick his neck clean. It was all Zhenya could do to hold onto him while Sid cleaned him up and then finally kissed him again, wet and messy. Any thought of irritation was lost in the kiss. 

Sid pulled away after what felt like too soon, but it was only to yank Zhenya to his feet and turn them around until he was the one sprawled out on the bed. Trust Sid to gain energy from an orgasm rather than falling asleep like a normal person. From there Sid worked like a man on a mission, getting Zhenya's jeans unbuttoned and down his legs before Zhenya had fully reoriented himself. The fact that Zhenya was still wearing his boots was a momentary inconvenience for Sid, but he got those off and had finished stripping him by the time Zhenya managed to say anything. "Sid, I—" 

He cut himself off when Sid went down on him without any hesitation, his mouth wet and hot and so soft, tongue and lips gliding over Zhenya's cock. Zhenya groaned and combed his fingers through Sid's hair, petting softly at his head, not trying to control the motion. Because Sid had that well under control, setting a rhythm that brought Zhenya close to the edge almost immediately. Sid was working like all he wanted was to get Zhenya off; Zhenya was just about to come, thinking he should warn Sid, when Sid pulled off him and leaned down to lick at his balls, hand still firm on Zhenya's dick. 

When he tried to pull Sid back to his dick, Sid tugged against the hand in his hair and moaned, his nails digging into Zhenya's thigh. Zhenya let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, panting; it was usually best to let Sid do what he wanted. And after a brief exploration of Zhenya's balls, Sid returned to his dick and took him even deeper, his lips tight around Zhenya. 

Just when he was about to come, Sid pulled off again, and Zhenya nearly growled in frustration except that Sid kept stroking him and said, "Yeah, do it," in a husky voice that sounded like that because he'd had Zhenya's dick down his throat. So he did, coming on Sid's lips just like he had on Zhenya's, only Sid didn't try to pull away, just closed his eyes and let it hit him in spurts. It was filthy and so unexpectedly hot that Zhenya could only stare at Sid and wonder if he should return the favor and clean him up. But before he could attempt to move, Sid started to lick over his lips and then wiped away the rest of the come with his hand, rubbing it against the duvet. 

Zhenya tugged on his arm until Sid flopped onto the bed next to him, head tucked against Zhenya's shoulder. "So, like I say, congratulations," he said weakly, barely twitching when Sid pinched his side in response.

* 

The team’s chirping of Sid continued for a bit longer, but it petered off as they focused on the upcoming playoffs and convincing themselves that they had enough gas for another long run. At first Zhenya waited to see whether Sid would mention anything to him about ‘movie watching’ in the future, but their friendship quickly reformed itself around the standard dinners and conversations about hockey and the team. If Sid didn’t have the words to discuss what had happened, Zhenya certainly wasn’t going to try. 

The season fizzled out predictably, a repeat too much to ask for, and Zhenya was grateful to be away and in the sun starting in May rather than having to wait until June. He felt like a cold-blooded lizard who needed time soaking up the heat before he could begin again. 

*

Their quiet exit felt worth it in the fall when everything clicked right from the start. After the long slog of the post-Cup season, it was a relief to feel things coming together. It was like they managed to tap into that Cup-winning play right from the start, and there was nothing Zhenya liked better than playing great hockey as a team. 

What Sid was doing was beyond great hockey, though. He was on a level Zhenya had never seen before, from Sid or from anyone else, and it was all he could do not to simply watch in awe. The one thing no one on the team did was actually talk about it, though, not with each other and certainly not with Sid. The risk of jinxing his points streak would be bad for anyone, but especially for someone like Sid. 

So Zhenya never teased him about showing up the rest of the team, or a bad game being one in which Sid only got a secondary assist. He simply watched.

He was still watching when Sid got hit hard once, and got hit again too few days later, and then there wasn't anything for Zhenya to watch at all. 

There was nothing to say, either. Sid's overwhelming positivity forestalled any kind of real conversation about his health and future, and beyond that, Zhenya had nothing to offer. He saw him when he could, worked hard to keep the team on track so that when Sid returned they could get back to where they had been. But none of that mattered when his knee fucked him over. 

Zhenya knew it was bad from the moment it happened. He didn't need anyone to tell him, and he certainly didn't want to try to explain it, in English or Russian. This was the first time he'd felt truly betrayed by his body, a routine fight for the puck ending like this. 

At first he envied Sid a little. Sid could be cleared to come back any day, whereas even after his surgery, if Zhenya even hinted about getting back on the ice he got yelled at. He was done for the season, no matter how long the season would last for the team, but Sid still had a chance. But that envy faded as Zhenya slowly recovered and Sid simply didn't, still locked in a dark house with only determined optimism to help.

It was almost a relief when the Penguins got knocked out of the playoffs after a performance that could only be labeled as _brave_ rather than _good._ That made it easier to pretend that this was a normal off-season for all of them, with slightly more rehab for Zhenya and a bit less conditioning. His conversations with Sid faded away when Zhenya realized that there weren't many questions he could ask that Sid would want to answer, and there wasn't much else to discuss. They were two men who talked through and about their bodies, and having an injury Sid couldn't analyze his way out of left them with little to talk about, especially over the phone. So Zhenya focused on what he could do, which was make sure that he was as ready as he could be at the start of the season, even if Sid wasn't. 

His body was ready, even if his brain wasn't at times. He had never wanted the spotlight only on himself, had wanted to be part of a real team more than he'd ever wanted to be the singular star, but in Sid's absence he discovered that if he didn't exert his authority on behalf of Sid others would attempt to step into that void permanently. Zhenya didn't blame them, exactly—a captainless team felt awkward to all of them—but he wouldn't stand for it, either, his words on the matter short and firm. 

The discussion all but stopped after Sid skated at training camp. Zhenya tried not to watch him too much, looking to see if he seemed like himself again, but sometimes he couldn't help it. He hadn't been out there alone for all that long, his own injury and the off-season eating up so much of the past year, but he had missed sharing the ice with Sid. 

It felt even better when Sid was finally cleared for contact. Even so, it took most of practice for the team to stop pulling up a little against Sid. But then he went after a puck against Tanger and suddenly the past eight months finally melted away. Zhenya hadn't been so happy after a practice in years. 

That happiness was nothing compared to how it felt when Sid was cleared for his first game back against the Islanders. The home crowd roared for him when he was announced in the starting lineup, and promptly outdid themselves just five minutes into the game when Sid scored. Everything felt right again in an instant. 

Sid was never content to ease up on an opponent when he could hammer home a message instead, so by the time the evening was done he had four points and the confidence of an entire city again. It felt less like they had beaten the Islanders and more like Sid had pummeled all of his doubters, leaving them with no choice but to admit he hadn’t lost a step from almost a year’s worth of inaction. The dressing room after the game felt jubilant, like they had won a game seven instead of a fairly inconsequential game in November against a team that had all but rolled over when Sid’s name was announced.

The post-game trip to the bar was mandatory for all, but no one would have wanted to miss it. Flower and Tanger kept ordering rounds before the previous round had even gotten to their table. “To captain!” Zhenya roared out before taking yet another shot, the vodka going down easy and making his chest warm. 

Looking at Sid was doing that, too, seeing the open happiness spread across his face, a wide grin splitting his cheeks and scrunching his eyes mostly closed. He had started pushing away drinks after the third or fourth round, enduring the predictable chirps with little embarrassment. “I’m out of practice, guys,” he protested, shaking his head. 

“You were never in practice,” Flower called back, hooting when Sid flipped him off. 

“You hear, Sid turn into pumpkin, time for home,” Zhenya said.

"It's barely midnight!" Duper complained. 

"Yeah, which means technically we have a game tomorrow, it's time to go," Sid said. 

Tanger groaned. "Now we know for sure Sid is back." 

"Come on, come on." Zhenya nudged Sid toward the door. "Get a car, take you home." Sid allowed Zhenya to shepherd him out of the bar, the mood still cheerful and boisterous, their captain back to his normal self. The car ride cleared Zhenya's head further, window down halfway, the crisp fall air waking him up again. 

He wasn't alert enough to expect Sid's hand tugging on his arm when the car pulled up in front of Sid's house, though. Sid stared at him like he had missed something. "You said you'd take me home?"

Zhenya swallowed. "I did, we here." 

"Yeah," Sid said, voice determined. He got out of the car and waited until Zhenya followed him out. "So come on in." 

This was something new, even after the ‘movie watching’ of a couple of years ago. That had felt reactive, but tonight Sid was being as deliberate as Zhenya could imagine. 

Then they got in through the door, and Sid pushed him up against the wall of his foyer and kissed him, and Zhenya discovered just how direct Sid could be. 

He kissed him back immediately, falling into this as easily as they had the first two times. Zhenya hadn't been at Sid's house in months; the last time he’d been here it had felt sad, like his house wasn't well for as long as Sid was hurt. Now everything seemed bright again, sharp-focused, and Zhenya half-pulled, half-pushed Sid toward his bedroom. 

"I just want to," Sid mumbled against his lips. 

"Want what?" Zhenya tried to ask, but he nearly tripped over himself as they got into Sid's bedroom. 

"Sorry, hold on," Sid said, and pulled back from Zhenya, toeing his shoes off and unbuttoning his shirt fast enough that Zhenya was certain he would rip out a button. Zhenya followed suit, getting his clothes off and tackling Sid onto the bed as soon as they were both naked. 

He couldn't decide what he wanted to do first, his hands running all over Sid's body while they kissed, pausing for a moment to stroke Sid's cock and then getting his hands on Sid's ass and pulling him in as he thrust against him. Sid was making little noises into Zhenya's mouth, but he wasn't ready to stop kissing Sid long enough to hear what he had to say. 

Finally, Sid planted his foot on the bed and flipped them over until he was straddling Zhenya, his thick thighs spread wide over Zhenya's hips. He was flushed all over, hands resting on Zhenya's belly, and Zhenya couldn't help but reach up to thumb over and then pinch both of Sid's nipples. Sid took a hitching breath in, his hard dick leaking over Zhenya's stomach, and Zhenya dug his thumbnails in a bit more.

Sid's eyes snapped open and he pinned Zhenya to the bed with his gaze. "I want you to fuck me," he said without any preamble. "Is that. Do you do that?"

The question wasn't whether Zhenya would do that with Sid, it was whether Zhenya had done that before, which didn't seem especially relevant to Zhenya at the moment. "I want," he said finally, hoping that said enough. His hands moved down Sid's body until they landed on his thighs, thumbs stroking over the crease between Sid's legs and hips. 

Sid quirked a smile at him. "Don't worry, I'll drive," he said, and leaned over until he was almost falling off the bed to open the drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms, and knelt up before clicking open the bottle and getting his fingers slick. 

Zhenya felt like he should offer to help, but all he could do was stare and stroke his hands over Sid's thighs as Sid reached his hand behind him. Mesmerized, he watched as Sid fingered himself, hips thrusting forward into the air, his dick gently swaying. That was something Zhenya could definitely help with, so he took hold of Sid's dick and let him fuck his hand. 

Fingers still working, Sid made a soft sound and then bit his lip, opening his mouth almost immediately on a gasp when Zhenya swiped his thumb over the head of Sid's cock. Sid reached out with his free hand and grabbed Zhenya's wrist before saying, "Okay, I'm good." 

Zhenya blinked up at him and then tore one of the condoms off the strip, working quickly to get it on. It was a bit tricky with Sid blocking his view, but he didn't want to make him move, and he could manage with Sid's help. Once it was on, he got his hands back on Sid's hips and forced himself to breathe while Sid leaned back and began slowly working himself onto Zhenya's cock. 

Sid's head was tipped back, the line of his throat long as he sank down onto Zhenya, one hand almost idly stroking his dick. Zhenya felt like he might shake apart from trying so hard not to move, but he just gripped Sid's hips tight and waited. Finally, Sid was firmly seated against him, the weight of his body pressing Zhenya down, sweat shining on his skin with every breath. 

He looked at Zhenya and smiled, almost shyly. "Ready?" he asked, as if that shouldn't be Zhenya's question, but Zhenya nodded anyway. 

Zhenya quickly discovered how wrong he was, because Sid lifted himself up off Zhenya's dick and then began to ride him, slamming back down on him so hard Zhenya felt like the air was being punched out of his lungs. He held on for dear life as Sid's powerful thighs did the work for both of them. It was like Sid was pulling an orgasm out of him, like Zhenya had absolutely no control over any of it, like Sid was fucking him instead of the other way around. He got one hand around Sid's dick because he wasn't going to last very long at this rate.

"Oh," Sid gasped. "Can you, while I," he stuttered, and knelt up until Zhenya was barely inside him anymore. Zhenya got his feet flat on the bed and started to thrust up into Sid, holding him steady. "A bit harder," Sid demanded, and Zhenya swore in Russian but did his best. 

"Sid, Sid," Zhenya chanted, unable to take his eyes off him. Sid's thighs were trembling above him, and Zhenya couldn't help himself, slammed up hard once more and came, pumping up into him. 

"God," Sid moaned, his hand still flying over his dick, and Zhenya grunted as Sid clenched down hard around him and came all over Zhenya's chest. Sid collapsed down on top of him a moment later, sticking them together, but Zhenya was too busy trying to catch his breath to care. 

"Welcome back," he said finally, his voice weak. 

Zhenya wondered the next morning if this time it might be different. Sid hadn’t said anything to suggest it was, so he decided to wait and see. But Sid treated him exactly the same the next day at practice, and then the next night they lost a game in OT they really should have won, which meant Zhenya wasn’t going anywhere near Sid afterwards. The road trip right after made things too complicated to even think about. 

And then, less than a month later, Sid was out again, and Zhenya had more important things to worry about. 

The rumblings in the dressing room from earlier in the season grew loud enough that the beat writers heard them, too, and suddenly Zhenya was responsible for squashing them publicly and privately. He couldn’t handle things the way Sid would have, but that, of course, was the point. He and Kuni and Flower kept things moving forward, and Zhenya did his best not to ask too many questions but to listen hard to any information shared about Sid. The team had one responsibility: stay in the playoffs hunt so that when Sid returned it would be for something worth it. 

He came back in time, but the playoffs were a disaster, like the team had internalized the idea that as long as they got there the rest would figure itself out. There was always next season to look forward to, but even that became in doubt, and Zhenya went back home and stayed back home long enough for Pittsburgh and his life there to seem like a dream. 

*

It was strange to return to Pittsburgh in the winter, stranger still to be in mid-season shape and yet in pre-season all at once, and completely disorienting to discover how familiar and welcoming English sounded to him. The words didn’t quite fit in his mouth the way they used to, but he had missed the shape of them. 

The dressing room was manic, the pressure and excitement of an entire season compressed into three months combining with the relief of not having to go through that again for seven years blending into something close to hysteria. It was like breaking through the thin layer of ice on a barely-frozen pond, bracing and electric and eventually deadly. Zhenya put his head down and got to work and forgot about everything that had come before, a true baptism. 

Sid’s season almost ended on a freak deflection, and once he was back the team flew so high before crashing back down. Zhenya left as soon as he could, perversely grateful that there was no reason he needed to stick around for the NHL Awards and could lick his wounded pride in peace. Last year’s collapse had been upsetting but manageable; this year’s was like a slap across the face. 

By the time the next spring rolled around and Zhenya was staring down yet another too-long summer, he knew that things were going to change. He was going to lose people he didn’t want to lose and be forced to prove his worth to another new coach, and after Sochi it felt like too much to bear. Neither failure was solely on his head, but both of them belonged to him, and no one else had to suffer that. So he took himself to the sun as quickly as he could to try to sweat out the self-pity, and he was determined to show his new coach and whatever his team looked like that he was ready to prove himself again. 

At first it felt like it was working. It was different, but there were enough of them left at the core that maybe all of the other changes were just what they needed. Sid got chirped constantly for his routines and superstitions, but that was just because he left himself open to it. No one bothered Zhenya about his need for things to stay the same because he didn't make it obvious. Sid was neurotic; Zhenya was stubborn. 

Their new coach was also stubborn, though, and while Zhenya was willing to put up with that to a degree, it was harder when the hockey wasn't fun to play. They still won, even through mumps and blood clots and other stupidity that a hockey team shouldn't have had to deal with, and then they got to April and they stopped winning, too. Last spring against the Rangers had felt like the end of something, with a new beginning possible; this time it felt like a warning bell. 

Clean out day was the worst he'd ever been through, the resignation thick and bitter in the air. He watched as Sid said the right things, but every explanation felt like stomach acid eating away at him. Zhenya did his best to say whatever was necessary to make the beat reporters leave him alone, grateful that no one expected nuance from him. 

He shrugged off the invitations to various team get togethers before they all scattered for the summer, and drove himself home after. In the moment, he had meant it when he’d said he might show up to some of them, but now that he was alone again, it felt like another lie to convince everyone that things would be okay. 

When his phone buzzed half an hour later, he thought about ignoring it. It was probably Tanger or maybe Horny trying to drag him out, and he was prepared to put up as much of a fight as he needed to. But then it buzzed again, and his curiosity won out. 

_u home_

_I'm outside your gate_

Baffled, Zhenya buzzed him inside and opened the door before Sid could knock, watching Sid walk up to his front steps with a bag in one hand.

"I brought vodka," he said, holding it up. 

"Thanks," Zhenya said, stepping aside so Sid could come in, rather than saying _why_ or _I have better vodka_ or asking any of the other questions he had. He was about to offer to get glasses when Sid carefully set the bag down on the floor of the foyer and then walked toward Zhenya, his eyes bleak. Zhenya let Sid back him up until his back was against the wall, a small crack beginning to form in the numbness he'd felt all day. 

"Make me stop thinking, I can't stop," Sid said, his hand reaching out to grab at Zhenya's t-shirt, and Zhenya did what he was asked and kissed Sid. He moaned into Zhenya's mouth and all but collapsed against him, arms snaking around his neck, his hips shifting restlessly. Zhenya got his hands on Sid's ass and held him up as they rutted against each other, swallowing every sound Sid made as they slowly shifted from moans to whimpers. 

Zhenya pushed them out of the foyer and into his front room, getting Sid on the couch and Sid's shorts undone right after. He knelt on the floor and got his mouth on Sid's dick, sucking hard and fast. His hands were pressing down on Sid's hips but Sid was still thrusting up, both hands on Zhenya's face and in his hair. When Sid's moans got louder, Zhenya just sucked harder, wanting so desperately to give him this if he couldn't give him anything else. Sid cut himself off and came, spilling into Zhenya's mouth, but he swallowed as much as he could and kept licking and sucking until Sid pushed him away and he collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard. 

Before he could catch his breath, Sid was on the floor between his legs, tugging his shorts down and curling over Zhenya's dick. Sid sucked his cock with almost ruthless efficiency, fist tight around him while he mouthed at the head of his dick. Zhenya was thrusting up into his hot wet mouth before he even knew what he was doing, and Sid let him, didn't try to control it at all, just took it and let Zhenya use his mouth. Zhenya barely had time to enjoy it before he was coming; he didn't know if he'd managed to make Sid stop thinking, but he felt empty now in a way he hadn't after game five. 

Sid sat back after swallowing, wiping at his mouth with the back of one hand, and then neatly did up his shorts. "I should go," he said. Zhenya could only blink back at him. Sid tried a grin, but didn't quite make it. He touched Zhenya's leg gently and said, "I'll—I'll see you at Worlds. I hope you like the vodka." He was up and out the front door before Zhenya managed to get his shorts back on, alone again. He couldn't decide if he wanted to drink that bottle of vodka or smash it. 

He did see Sid at Worlds, and it was nice, but it was also completely casual and public up until the Final. After Zhenya lost again, Sid didn't venture closer with anything other than a hug and a sympathetic face, which was smart because Zhenya couldn't manage anything close to grace in that situation. Rationally, he didn't blame Sid; Sid was just doing his job, but rationality had clearly abandoned Zhenya many years ago, even if he was only realizing it now. 

After a short break that felt like nothing, Zhenya was back to training, to the only thing he knew how to do. If Sid wanted to talk, he would have to come make Zhenya talk; everything else, Zhenya could show on the ice. 

That turned out to be a lie, though. He discovered quickly that fall that somewhere along the line he’d learned how to talk to the media when he needed to, and he definitely needed to now. The questions they were all being asked had no easy answers, especially about Sid, but no matter what else was happening, Zhenya wouldn't let everything fall on him. Sid was doing a good enough job of shouldering the blame by himself; there was no need to let the media attempt to add to that weight. 

Zhenya didn't learn how to talk to Johnston, but no one else could either, so he didn't feel too bad about it. There was a mean sort of satisfaction in his belly when Jim and Mario told them what was happening; Zhenya didn't have any opinions about the guy coming up from WBS, but he had plenty about Johnston, which already started Sullivan off on the right foot. 

That didn't change, even when they kept losing, because Sully listened when he needed to and yelled at Zhenya when he didn't, and for the first time in far too long he felt like he knew what he needed to do. Even that didn’t immediately wipe away the carefully blank expression on Sid's face, but around the time they started to win again he began to look less like he was braced for something bad, and by the time the trade deadline came around Sid made almost everyone forget what the past year and a half had been like. 

Zhenya didn't forget; but then, most people didn't have an unopened bottle of too expensive and not good enough vodka in their freezer. He still didn't forget when they faced the Rangers in the first round, but he didn't think it was time to mention anything until after the Penguins had trounced them. 

He thought about waiting to say something, not to risk anything during the playoffs, to accept and celebrate how much better things were now. It would probably be the smart move. It was certainly what Sid had done so far. 

That alone was why, when people started leaving the bar after game five, Zhenya grabbed Sid by the arm and loudly announced, "Time to go." 

Sid grinned up at him, looking happier than Zhenya had seen him in ages. "It is, huh?" 

Zhenya smiled back at him with his teeth. 

After a moment, Sid's grin faded into something more thoughtful, and he nodded. "Let me just get my coat." 

The car ride to Zhenya's was quiet; now that he had started this, the words fled from his brain. But whenever he looked over at Sid, he was already watching him. 

"Want vodka?" wasn't how Zhenya had intended to start when they got into his house, but it was what he said anyway. 

Sid flushed. "I guess I deserved that." 

"Still have in freezer," Zhenya continued mildly. 

"Maybe we shouldn't drink more," Sid said after a moment, and Zhenya suddenly felt bad for giving into his spite. 

"Sorry, Sid. Don't ask you here to drink."

Sid smiled a little hesitantly. "You didn't really ask at all." 

Scoffing, Zhenya asked, "You say yes if I ask?"

"Yes," Sid said without any hesitation. Zhenya waited for him to elaborate, but Sid just stood there in his foyer, looking at him steadily, like Zhenya should know exactly what he meant. 

"Okay. Okay, but we need to talk," Zhenya said, waiting until Sid nodded and then he couldn't stop himself. "Like, there is hockey, is great, is best, is everything. And then like there is this, which also great, but." He shook his head and kept going, no longer looking at Sid. "But is great and then not, and I want. I want both."

"Geno," Sid said softly. 

"I want both, but you never say what you want, so I think hockey here, this someplace else, and. I don't want that," Zhenya said, gesturing more as he grew increasingly frustrated. "I don't know how to say." 

"I want that, too," Sid said. 

Zhenya could only blink at him. "You want what?"

"I want to be with you, in hockey and—not in hockey," he said, stumbling a bit, and Zhenya had a fierce moment of private satisfaction that this wasn't easy for Sid to say, either. His smugness disappeared when Sid fixed him with a solid look, one that said he had made up his mind, an expression that Zhenya had seen on the bench too many times to count in the past decade. "I just want you." 

That was enough talking for Zhenya. "Okay, upstairs," he said, herding Sid toward his staircase, both hands bracketing his hips to steer the way. 

"Geno—" 

"Not blow you on couch this time," Zhenya said, still prodding Sid up the stairs. 

Sid stopped halfway up to the second floor. "I'm sorry about that," he said over his shoulder. 

Zhenya pushed a little harder this time. He wasn't mad, exactly, but he didn't want to talk about it when there were better things they could be doing. 

Of course, Sid never knew when to stop. "I should have actually talked to you then, but I just felt so bad, and—" 

"You want to feel bad together, I get," Zhenya said, because he did get it, but he didn't feel bad right now and that was what should matter. He finally got Sid into his bedroom and kissed him once, firmly. "Now feel good." 

He kissed Sid again, getting his arms around him and feeling how solid he was pressed up against Zhenya's body. For a moment Sid seemed like he wanted to keep apologizing, but then he relaxed into the kiss. Zhenya got to linger like he hadn't gotten to in forever, kissing Sid deeply and then pulling back, sucking on Sid's lower lip. He kept his kisses shallow for just long enough to make Sid chase him back, his tongue exploring Zhenya's mouth. Humming, he kissed Sid back happily. Sometimes Sid just needed some help turning his brain off. 

But then Sid pulled away and Zhenya could see that this conversation wasn't over. "I shouldn't have done that to you," he said earnestly. He licked over his lips for a moment, the flash of tongue distracting, and Zhenya had had enough. 

"Want me to say how I feel?"

"Yes," Sid said immediately, and Zhenya nodded his head and tugged him toward the bed. 

"I tell you," Zhenya said, getting his hands on Sid's jeans and undoing them. 

"Geno—"

Zhenya shushed him. "I said I tell, be quiet." He got Sid naked quickly and up onto the bed. Sid sat there blinking at him while he undressed, a flush starting to spread over his chest and up his neck. They were both still hard from making out, and Zhenya wasn't about to let that go to waste. Once he was naked, Zhenya climbed up onto the bed and tugged at Sid until he was sitting between the V of Zhenya's legs. "Okay." 

"Can I talk yet?" 

Zhenya got his arm around Sid's torso and pulled until Sid's back was flush against Zhenya's chest, thumbing over Sid's nipple once he was properly positioned. "No." 

"Why not?" Sid's voice hitched as Zhenya wrapped his hand around Sid's dick in the middle of his question. 

"Because I tell." Zhenya let go of Sid's dick just long enough to lick his palm, and then he reached back down and started to slowly stroke him. "That what you want, right?" 

"Yes," Sid said, a little breathy, and Zhenya smiled and kissed the side of his head. Sometimes Zhenya was too soft-hearted for his own good. 

"I'm mad because you leave," Zhenya said into Sid's ear. Sid's hands were gripping Zhenya's thighs, which were splayed to fit Sid between them. "Not because you blow me." He rested his chin over Sid's shoulder, watched as the head of Sid's dick appeared and disappeared in his hand, looking slick and red. 

"I didn't think you minded that," Sid said, and gasped when Zhenya pinched his nipple hard, his dick twitching in Zhenya's hand. 

"Not done," Zhenya said. "You sad, and I think like I could help, but you don't want that." His hand sped up on Sid. "That was why I'm mad." Sid's hips were lifting up with every stroke, Sid's fingers digging into Zhenya's skin as he made soft noises. 

Zhenya let go of his dick, putting his hand on Sid's inner thigh, and waited. "Why did you stop," Sid finally asked, haltingly. 

"Not time yet," Zhenya said, reaching down to tug on Sid's balls. Sid arched back against him. "I thought we need to talk." 

Groaning, Sid tried to turn, but Zhenya held him firm around the chest and by the balls, and he didn't think Sid wanted to move that badly. "Okay, I get it, you were mad I didn't trust you, not that I blew you."

"Never mad at that," Zhenya said, and loosened his grip just enough that Sid could kiss him, both hands holding Zhenya's face. They were twisted together now, and Zhenya figured he had made his point. So he untangled both of them until Sid was on his back and Zhenya was on top of him, the two of them sprawled sideways on his gigantic bed. He got one hand under Sid and grabbed his ass, pulling him upward while he thrust along Sid's belly, their dicks brushing against each other. They rutted together, Sid half-biting and half-kissing him until his head fell back on a gasp, and Zhenya felt the hot rush of come between them. He got up onto his knees and started to stroke himself, his gaze starting at Sid's face and flicking down to his spent cock and then back up his chest. With a groan he came, watching as it hit Sid's chest and belly. 

He collapsed to the right of Sid, his chest heaving, and he ran his hand up Sid's body, smearing their come across his skin. "Okay now?" 

It took Sid a moment or two to respond, but Zhenya wasn't worried. He had tired Sid out. "Yeah. It's okay." Sid's hand stilled Zhenya's on his belly, fingers brushing over his skin. Even that light touch made Zhenya shudder, his entire body oversensitized now. "I mean, we'll have to talk more eventually," Sid added, and when Zhenya opened his eyes Sid was staring back at him, his poker face almost good enough. 

Zhenya snorted and kissed Sid's shoulder. "Maybe after playoffs."


End file.
